Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Romania and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Johnny Clarke to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Bananas,
The Selecter,
Cameo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Slackers,
Deadbeat,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Infiniti,
The Leaves,
Funky Four + One,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bluetip,
Flipper,
Intrusion,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Man Parrish,
Fela Kuti,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Angels of Light,
Iggy Pop,
Sister Nancy,
Sun Ra,
The Gories,
Ultra Naté,
The Raincoats,
The Victims,
Spandau Ballet,
Panda Bear,
The Blackbyrds,
Procol Harum,
James White and The Blacks,
Rod Modell,
Talk Talk,
The Durutti Column,
Harry Pussy,
Absolute Body Control,
The Buckinghams,
The Moleskins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fuzztones,
Television Personalities,
Con Funk Shun,
Fluxion,
Symarip,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Walker Brothers,
The Human League,
Aswad,
Black Pus,
The Toasters,
Outsiders,
John Foxx,
The Saints,
MDC,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.